


I’ll Put Us Back Together at Heart

by NightjarPatronus



Series: Flirtations at the Rolling Scones Café [2]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Magic, F/F, Josh’s baked goods continue to strike, Opposites Attract, Past Relationships, brief mentions of Charlie’s death, brief mentions of Hannah’s estrangement, implied/referenced substance use, winter holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightjarPatronus/pseuds/NightjarPatronus
Summary: A disgruntled waitress barges into a coffee shop, and a sleep-deprived barista screws up her name. Followed by a mystery drink, a heart-to-heart over cookies, and a song performance at an open-mic.She nods. “Black, no sugar.”Alice recoils at the thought of a coffee so irredeemably bitter, but stays quiet, schooling her face with the customer-service smile Eliot had taught her on her first day. The woman continues to scowl like she can read Alice’s mind. It’s possible that she’s just cranky. It’s also possible that she’s mad at the world, no matter what.Under her scrutiny, Alice fixes her gaze on the screen and enters the order. This woman is far from the most hard-assed customer she has dealt with, but something about being judged by her feels exceptionally scathing.
Relationships: Kady Orloff-Diaz/Alice Quinn
Series: Flirtations at the Rolling Scones Café [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004997
Comments: 18
Kudos: 13





	1. Alice

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, everyone! 2020 has been an indescribable mess for many of us around the world, I’m sure, but some winter-themed fluff might help soothe the pain. This story is part two of my ongoing Coffee Shop AU series. Reading part one is not necessary, but strongly recommended if you like extra context, or Halloween/fall aesthetics, or the dorky disaster romance that is Queliot. 
> 
> This story’s title is inspired by the lyrics of _Don’t You (Forget About Me)_ from the Breakfast Club. I hope you enjoy the feels. May 2021 brings better things into our lives :)
> 
> Shoutout to my beta, LilyAceofDiamonds, who has been endlessly patient in the face of my many plot-related questions and ramblings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice declines a brownie.

December has turned the Rolling Scones Café into a winter wonderland. There are no holiday-themed elements inside, save for the food on display: yule logs and reindeer cupcakes alongside latkes and sufganiyot, all tempting hungry customers from the glass case by the registers. The café is open twenty-four hours a day as finals week dawns on the horizon for the undergrads at Brakebills University, its usual hours changed to accommodate the masses of students flooding in at all hours looking for a caffeine fix.

For a barista like Alice, who is running on three coffees and four-and-a-quarter hours of sleep, the excess white in the shop’s decor is proving to be an eye strain. During a quiet moment when there are no drinks to make, she suppresses a yawn and tilts her head up to watch the glittery snowflakes that dangle from the ceiling on fishing lines. They rotate, pushed by the air flowing around the room, their surfaces twinkling against the fairy lights strewn across the walls.

The door to the kitchen opens behind her. Alice closes her eyes and lowers her head, pulling away from her staring contest with the snowflakes above.

“Daddy’s off for the night.” Eliot’s coattails sweep behind him as he walks past the bar. “Stay awake. Don’t work too hard.”

Alice blinks at the sight of her smug coworker liberated from his evening shift, and shrugs as a vague promise not to pass out on the job. With one last wave, Eliot exits and takes off into the night, bracing against the wind that threatens snow upon the town of Fillory.

Due to the increased demands before finals week and the number of employees who plan to leave town for winter break, Josh, the owner of the café, has opened up applications for temp workers. He had been surprised when Alice handed in her application, having assumed she’d rather join the customers in their late-night cramming. To her relief, Josh didn’t ask why she wanted to work here now, of all times.

Alice’s phone has been blowing up with messages—curious school-related questions from dad and passive-aggressive inquiries about her winter break plans from Stephanie. The former irritates her, despite its good intentions, and the latter is a different level of infuriating. Making coffee is a welcome distraction from all this drivel. Between serving a concerning amount of large coffee orders past midnight and dealing with Marina’s incessant chatter, being here gives Alice a sense of peace.

Besides, physics isn’t a major Alice could cram for. She can either wrap her head around the theories and their applications in time, or she’s fucked no matter how easy the math turns out to be. So far, she has been keeping up. And she had finished her lab work in November while most of her class is pulling all-nighters, trying to make up for lost time. One of the few perks of not having friends.

Though that might be changing.

Between Todd’s complete disregard for personal space and Eliot’s attempts to take her under his wing, Alice has shared more about her life with her coworkers than she cares to tally up. And, in the three weeks since she’d started working at the Rolling Scones, Margo had already invited her to her apartment twice: once to give her a makeover, and once to sit at the dining table with her, passing a bottle of rosé back and forth while they talked. In retrospect, Margo might’ve been trying to flirt, since she and Julia had ended their fling in mid-November and decided to just stay friends. Her efforts were ruined, however, when Quentin and Eliot barged into the apartment in a tangle of limbs, looking for some alone time.

The graveyard shift is a blessing and a curse. Tonight Alice is here from ten to three, working the shift that has the least amount of crazy now that all the other college students have gone, even Todd. This is the perfect escape from most of her meddlesome coworkers.

Except for Marina, the shift manager, who hovers around her at this very moment, attempting to lure her into a conversation before new customers show up. Marina has been talking since Eliot left, ranting about the receptionist at her gym who can’t spell her last name right to save his petty little life. After an eternity of half-hearted nods and single-word responses from Alice, she stops. Finally.

“Is it true that you and that Coldwater nerd used to date?”

The silence, it seems, is short-lived.

“Who told you that?”

Marina boosts herself to sit cross-legged on the bar countertop. Unlike Alice, she revels in the chaos of a regular day shift, and at the moment, with none of her usual enablers around, she is redirecting all her energy toward the only person stuck at work with her. “Also, I heard you and Margo almost fucked.”

“Who told you _that_?”

“You just did.” Marina watches Alice with a devilish look in her eye. “Margo was whining all week about getting pussy-blocked. She wouldn’t say with who. As for Coldwater, well, I have my ways.”

Alice takes a cloth and wipes down the countertop, refusing to dignify that with a response.

“So how did you two meet?” Marina pries.

“Summer program.”

“When?”

“High school. Before senior year.”

“But you live in Chicago.”

“So?”

“Long-distance, huh? Didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Well, I did. Now can we move on?”

“So touchy.” Marina scoots closer. “Why, did he dump you?”

“No, of course not!”

Alice realizes too late that she’d taken the bait.

“So what happened, Little Miss Heartbreaker?”

“We were busy.” Alice frowns at her reflection on the mirrored surface of the espresso machine. “Then he lost his phone. That was it.”

Marina sighs and hops off the countertop to go back to the register, deciding this story is a lost cause.

Alice finishes tidying up, grateful for the peace that her lackluster relationship history has brought her.

The full story isn’t any more interesting than the abbreviated version Alice gave to keep Marina’s nose out of her business. She and Quentin had dated for three weeks at Columbia during their summer program. They were still together when Alice flew home to Chicago, and they continued to talk throughout their last year of high school. But their conversations always veered into AP classes and college applications. What romance they’d had in the summer was so far gone that they’d more or less broken up without stating so. Then in March, Quentin had lost his grip on his phone during a school trip and dropped it into the Hudson River, literally washing away all memories of their relationship.

Running into Q during move-in week this August had been mortifying for Alice, but that was months ago. She’s friends with him now, and since Julia is her roommate, she sees Q almost daily. She is prepared for almost anything, but their run-in at Margo’s was different; she hadn’t expected to catch her ex mid-intercourse.

The front door opens, unleashing a gust of wind that makes Alice regrets wearing fishnets under her skirt. A man in a suit saunters in and gives Alice a wave, wiggling his fingers. She waves back.

Marina enters Pete’s usual order into the system. “Slow night?”

“Came out for a smoke.” He slips Marina a twenty-dollar bill. “Thought I’d stop by and say hi.”

It’s the third day in a row that Pete has waltzed into the café when he’s supposed to be working at the Hare on the Ass Restaurant & Bar down the street, a crudely-named establishment owned by a guy named Bacchus. But finals week means no open-mics and fewer hot upperclassmen looking to get wasted, and Pete gets antsy when no one is slipping him extra tips and phone numbers written on napkins. Josh, having known the bartender from his own Brakebills days, has been expecting Pete’s visits by stocking edibles in the kitchen fridge.

Marina picks up a large paper cup and draws a dick and balls in place of Pete’s name. “I’m keeping the change.”

Alice takes over the register while Marina goes to make Pete’s order: a large mocha involving caramel, toffee nut, and vanilla syrups, topped by a hazelnut foam. Marina finishes it without fuss and hands it over to her smirking friend. Then they disappear into the kitchen for peppermint brownies, leaving Alice to fend for herself.

A woman pulls the front door open a few minutes later, the wind tousling the wayward strands of her curly hair as she sticks her head in. “Hey, Pete? Pete! Bacchus wants you back at the bar!”

A few customers hiss in anger at the sound of her raised voice, but she ignores them. She searches the room again. When she finds no Pete in sight, she enters the café and walks up to the register. The gray apron over her blouse says _The Hare on the Ass_.

“He’s back there,” Alice tells her, pointing at the kitchen door.

“Fuck.” The woman considers this for a moment, her jade-green eyes glaring daggers at the place Alice is pointing. If she isn’t so pissed, Alice might decide she’s gorgeous. At the moment Alice can’t tell, not when her scowl says she’d punch the face of anyone who tries to say hello.

“Want me to get him?”

“Never mind.” She shrugs and turns away from the kitchen door, and reads the overhead menu. “I’ll take a large coffee to go. Make it three shots.”

“Hot?”

She nods. “Black, no sugar.”

Alice recoils at the thought of a coffee so irredeemably bitter, but stays quiet, schooling her face with the customer-service smile Eliot had taught her on her first day. The woman continues to scowl like she can read Alice’s mind. It’s possible that she’s just cranky. It’s also possible that she’s mad at the world, no matter what.

Under her scrutiny, Alice fixes her gaze on the screen and enters the order. This woman is far from the most hard-assed customer she has dealt with, but something about being judged by her feels exceptionally scathing.

“That’ll be four forty-nine.”

To Alice’s surprise, the woman pays with cash and drops five dollars of change into the tip jar. “Oh!” Alice brightens. “Wow, thank you!”

Her eyes soften— _almost_.

“What’s your name?” Alice takes a large cup from the stack.

“Kady.”

Alice hesitates. Did she say Kay-dee, or was it just _Katie_? Is her sleep-deprived brain messing with her senses? How does she spell that?

The woman walks off to the pickup counter before Alice can ask. She writes K-A-T-I-E, hoping she is right, and goes to make the coffee before she can second-guess herself.

When the woman picks up her drink, she almost doesn’t notice the name written on the cup. The letters catch her eye at the last second when Alice slides it her way. She turns the cup around to read the letters, and her scowl deepens. Alice stands behind the counter and braces herself for a tirade.

“It’s _Kady._ K-A-D-Y.”

“I’m sorry,” Alice says, her sincerity almost pleading. She tries to shove her panic in a box and throw away the key, but the slight quiver in her voice gives her away.

“It’s fine.” Kady’s voice loses its edge from moments before. 

Then Kady picks up her cup, barges through the kitchen door before Alice can stop her, and pulls Pete out by his ear with her free hand.

“Ow, ow, _ow_!” Pete whines, slurring under the effect of the brownies, as he stumbles behind her. “Okay, _okay!_ I’m going! I’m going!”

Some customers grumble, not pleased about yet another disturbance, but a few of them chuckle at the spectacle. Alice returns to the register and breathes out in relief as Kady elbows the door open, shoves Pete out, and drags him down the street. At least Kady is more concerned about Pete’s absence from the place where she works than about the butchered name on her cup.

“Good job holding down the fort.” A sober Marina reappears by Alice’s side during the commotion, a piece of brownie in hand. “Want a bite?”

Alice shakes her head. Marina pops it into her own mouth. She doesn’t take her eyes off of Alice, trying to detect anything juicy that may have happened while she was away. But Eliot’s lessons are sinking in—Alice regards her shift manager with a poker face, concealing all hints of her brief encounter with the annoyed customer moments before.

_“You’re going to mess up a few names. More than a few. Well, three times a day. My point is, try not to lose any sleep over it,”_ Eliot had told Alice during her training. _“Most people don’t give a fuck, even if they act like cocks about it. And as far as fucking up names go, Starbucks has done a lot worse.”_

Despite this reasonable advice, Kady’s name haunts Alice for the rest of her shift. At three in the morning, she pries off her apron and steps into the night with new resolve. The next time Kady comes back— _if_ she comes back—Alice will get her name right.


	2. Kady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kady orders a different drink.

Kady roams the streets of Fillory in the early afternoon, cursing the pavement with her heavy footsteps. Eighty percent of the town is deserted now that finals are over. The Brakebills students had filed away on the Amtrak or airport shuttles to go home for winter break.

Even Marina and Pete are out of town on a last-minute road trip to Chicago, an excursion that Kady wants no part of. She has known her roommates long enough to trust them not to murder her in her sleep, but she can’t say the same for their so-called “trading partners”. The less she knows about their side-gig, the better.

Although Kady welcomes the freedom of living alone, it comes at a price. Her phone doesn’t have the same incentive as someone threatening to kick her door down if she doesn’t put on real clothes in the next thirty seconds, so her body has forced her to sleep in, alarms be damned. There’s no way she can fall back asleep after dinner since she’d woken up an hour ago. Working the graveyard shift at the Hare on the Ass is going to suck balls, but that’s tonight’s problem.

She meanders down Haven Way, stops at the Rolling Scones Café, and peers through the vinyl-framed window. There is an illustrated poster on the wall beside her, promoting the open-mic event on Christmas Eve. She hasn’t been to the Rolling Scones since finals week. She’s in no mood to confront the awkwardness that happened here two weeks ago. But she has to come back here on the 24th to sing at the open-mic. She might as well rip off the band-aid now and grab a dessert as a consolation.

The café is almost empty save for a middle-aged woman typing away on her laptop at a corner table with her headphones in. Todd stands at the bar, tall and curly-haired and dressed like that flamboyant theatre-kid. But Kady’s relief doesn’t last. Todd waves at her before disappearing into the kitchen. Someone else takes his place—the very person Kady was hoping to avoid.

Wonderful.

The blonde woman looks at Kady, her recognition apparent by the frown that she quickly shoves away.

Kady hadn’t been the nicest version of herself the last time she was here. On most days, she would have let the “Katie” thing go, but having to hunt down Pete had put her in a less than generous mood. Not that she considered it a valid excuse. Her interaction with the barista-whose-name-she-can’t-remember has nagged at her conscience since.

“Hi, welcome to the Rolling Scones,” the blondie says with a picture-perfect smile. “How may I help you?”

Maybe she’s hoping Kady doesn’t remember _her_ , which is understandable, but still stings. Kady forces herself to smile as she walks closer and reads her name tag.

This time Kady gets close enough to read the woman’s name, hand-painted on a piece of wood pinned to her apron. _Alice_ , it says, in neat cursive.

“I’ll have—“

Kady’s mind draws a blank. “Shit. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Alice says. “Take your time.”

There’s no one waiting in line. Kady steps back and looks up at the menu, then down at the glass display by her side, feeling stupid for marching in here like she’d already made up her mind. Two-thirds of the menu are seasonal items, ever-changing like the decoration in the room.

After what feels like an eternity, she finds something that doesn’t sound tooth-rotting. “I’ll have a slice of the yule log. The dark chocolate one.” Kady points. Then she reads the menu on the far right. “And what’s the tea special today?”

“Raspberry hibiscus. Would you like that?”

“Yeah, I’ll try it. For here.” Kady hands over her card. “Thanks.”

“Good choices.” Alice enters the order and prints the receipt. “The tea’s always good, and the log’s made with real coffee. I think you’ll like it. It’s not too sweet.”

“Oh.”

Kady winces. So Alice _does_ recognize her. At least enough to remember she’d ordered something bitter last time.

“Take a number. I’ll bring your food over when it’s ready.”

Without another word, Kady accepts her card and receipt, shoving both into her back pocket. She takes a number seven sign from the tray by the pickup counter and finds a table, averting her eyes from the still-friendly barista.

The worn-out copy of _Fillory and Further: Book I_ that Kady has brought proves to be a helpful distraction. Julia had loaned it to her to prepare for the English class she’ll be taking next semester. Kady had met Jules in their Intro to Psychology lecture last semester, and she took a liking to her despite her usual distaste for bookish overachievers. Their first conversation felt like a challenge Kady couldn’t back down from, and they continued to talk until their acquaintance evolved into a friendship.

It seems silly that a kids’ book would be part of a college-level class, but the _Fillory and Further_ series is special in that it’s based in this town. Though the fantasy elements are pure fiction, the books have historical value in Fillory—most of the settings are inspired by the town’s real architecture, including the older buildings at Brakebills. So Professor Van Der Weghe had made the Fillory books mandatory, and Julia, being Julia, had dared Kady to take the course with her. The professor’s reputation as a tough grader (and, in Pete’s words, a “humorless dick”) has only strengthened her resolve. She’ll be putting her scholarship at risk, which is dumb; but she’ll be proving Pete wrong, which is worth it.

Halfway through chapter one, Alice sets down the tray with the tea and the yule log at Kady’s table.

“Hey,” Kady catches her attention. “Listen, I’m sorry about last time.”

Alice nods, understanding. “You don’t have to apologize. I made an assumption. Turned out I was wrong.”

“Still, it was uncalled for.” Kady insists, looking up. “I mean, Starbucks would’ve done worse. So. I’m sorry.”

Alice’s eyes are intensely blue. They echo the shade of her apron that matches the winter decorations around the shop, but they seem kinder now that Kady has apologized.

“If it helps,” Alice says quietly, a hint of teasing in her voice. “I blamed it on sleep deprivation.”

“Yours, or mine?” Kady quips back.

Silence.

Shit. Too soon?

The corners of Alice’s mouth turn up in a smile. A genuine smile. Nothing like the polite façade she had worn earlier. She walks away, back to the bar, without giving an answer.

True to Alice’s words, the coffee flavor in the yule log hits on the first bite and lingers, balancing out the chocolate. As Kady savors each bite, the wordy book in her hand becomes a lot more tolerable. The hibiscus tea tastes sharp and pairs well with decadent cake, though the teabag bleeds an outrageous shade of pink as it steeps in the hot water. There’s a packet of honey on the tray. Kady stirs it into the mug to cut back the acidity, ignoring the garish color.

The Fillory book gets good when the Cozy Horse shows up forty pages in and lowers itself for Jane to ride it like a noble steed. Kady pulls out her phone and sends a quick message to Julia to complain about the overabundance of long paragraphs in the early chapters.

Her friend’s response is immediate. _Not a fan of purple prose?_

_Is anyone?_ Kady texts back.

_I kind of enjoy it._

_Seriously?_

_I love the worldbuilding. You know me._

_Okay, nerd._

Julia sends back an emoji of a shit-eating grin.

Of course an architecture major like Jules considers the details necessary, but all Kady wants is to see the Chatwins beat someone up. Kady rolls her eyes and puts the phone down.

A handful of customers come in and out while Kady dives back into the story, their presence punctuated by the sound of the front door swinging shut. The overhead lights flicker on when she’s halfway through the book, startling her. Her phone says it’s four in the afternoon.

The day’s still young by her standards, though the darkening sky begs to differ. Two chapters later, the middle-aged woman who has been here all afternoon packs up her laptop, and another man put on his coats and walks out, leaving Kady in the shop alone. She looks up, catching Alice in the act of watching her from the bar.

Alice walks over to her. “Finding everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m all good.” Kady’s plate is empty. She had even picked up the crumbs, sad that the yule log had been devoured halfway around chapter seven. “That log was next level.”

“Oh, that’s great! Josh will be happy to hear that.”

Kady marks her book and gestures to the empty chair across the table. Alice sits after checking that the café is empty except for them. “Do you know the recipe?” Kady asks.

“I saw Josh make them when I came in for opening shifts last week. But he says there’s a secret ingredient. He wouldn’t tell me what it is.”

“Rude.”

“Eliot thinks he’s bluffing.”

“Does that sound like something he’d do?”

Alice wrinkles her nose. “He’s protective of his trade secrets, so maybe? I’m not sure. I’ve only been here for a month and a half.”

“You started working right before finals week?”

And here Kady thought Julia was an overachiever.

“Yeah. Well.” Alice averts her eyes. “It’s not so bad. My major isn’t one you could study for.”

Kady recognizes the look on her face, the uncertainty. She’d been there herself, wondered how much she was willing to say. The last thing she’d wanted then was for someone to notice the momentary panic that had crossed her face.

“What’s your major?” Kady asks. “Wait, no. Let me guess.”

Alice’s shoulders sink in relief. She stays quiet while Kady scans her from head to toe, pretending to think hard. Kady takes the chance to look at Alice, _really_ look at her, as she feels heat settle beneath her cheeks. Behind her blue apron, Alice wears a black dress with Peter Pan collars. It’s clean-cut and clings to her figure like a silent tease, skimming across the curves of her body. In this weather, her outfit, coupled with sheer stockings, is formidable in its own right.

“Yeah, I got nothing.” Kady lifts her head before Alice can catch her checking her out. “Something brainy. English? No. Anthropology? Oh, math!”

“Physics. You were close.”

Kady leans forward and props her chin, looking smug. “I’ll take that as a win.”

“What about you?”

“Social work.”

Alice nods. “That explains why we never saw each other.”

Another customer walks in, an old man Kady has seen around town. Alice stands and pushes the chair back in. “My shift ends at five. Let me know if you need anything else before I go.”

Alice goes back to the bar to help the customer, and Kady grudgingly opens the Fillory book again. There’s time for another chapter or two before Alice leaves. She can get something to go. She’ll need _something_ if she has to stay up ‘till three in the morning.

Before the battle at the Darkling Woods, Jane Chatwin seeks advice from a vain centaur and an unhelpful fox who speaks in riddles. Later, Kady plans to tell Julia that the talking animals sound like they’re high off of some good shit, something way stronger than Josh’s brownies. Every once in a while, Kady sneaks a glance at the bar, and always finds Alice staring back. They distract each other for the better part of an hour until Kady gives in and packs her stuff.

“Can I get a large coffee to go?” Kady asks, walking up to the register.

Alice takes her card. “Black, no sugar?”

“I need to stay awake. Surprise me.”

After the drink is ready, Kady slips on her coat and accepts the paper cup Alice slides across the pickup counter. Their fingers brush against one another’s, then Alice pulls away and clears her throat. “Are you going home for the holidays?”

“Like, _home_ home? No.”

“Me, neither.” Alice looks surprised, but doesn’t pry. “I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll come by tomorrow if I can wake up on time.” Kady blurts out the words on instinct and hides a grimace, too dumbstruck by her own stupid nerve to consider taking it back.

“I’ll be here. Same time.” Alice says. She smiles again, sealing the promise.

Kady waves goodbye and marches herself out the door before her brain can decide to do something more outrageous like ask for Alice’s number. Three blocks later, she stops at an intersection. She takes a small sip of her mystery drink, grunting in content when she tastes the foam with hazelnut shavings on top. The coffee isn’t sweet at all, but it has a sugar-free caramel syrup stirred in, mellowing out the bitterness. Well. She might have to order this next time. To hell with her black-coffee force of habit.

As she contemplates the taste of her surprise coffee, she notices the neat writing in black sharpie just above the cup’s sleeve. _K-A-D-Y._ Followed by a heart.


	3. Alice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alice gets a FaceTime call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to post this chapter and the next by the 25th in time for Christmas. Procrastination got the best of me. But what the hell, time is a construct. Enjoy!
> 
> Warning: brief mentions of Charlie’s death.

“Mail us your cake tin. The fancy one with the hole in it.” Margo peers closer into the camera, her face taking up the entire phone screen. “And make it quick—Eliot’s been moping all day.”

Alice’s phone has been propped on top of the glass display case for the better part of an hour, out of earshot from the handful of customers seated by the window. Margo has FaceTimed Alice halfway through her shift at the Rolling Scones, declaring the matter to be “a major fucking catastrophe”. The catastrophe in question involves Eliot’s need to impress Ted Coldwater with a festive Christmas Eve dinner, complete with a fruit cake drizzled in royal icing.

Except for one problem: the only baking instrument Ted owns is a rusty brownie tray older than Quentin.

Josh sighs, sliding his cake samples into the glass display. “It’s called the Bundt cake pan, and no, I am _not_ mailing mine to New Jersey.”

“I’ll pay you back for the shipping!”

“No! That one’s vintage!”

“Who the fuck owns vintage cake tins?”

“I do!”

Ted had gone into remission after he finished his last round of radiation therapy in November, and is now cleared to eat whatever his heart desires. Quentin’s mom is in Florida with her side of the family to celebrate the holidays in a place that knows no such thing as cold, so Ted has invited Eliot and Margo to his house for winter break. With Christmas Eve looming closer, Eliot wants to sharpen his skills in an unfamiliar kitchen while Ted is out of the house visiting an old friend. Most of his experiments on the stove had ended in success, but Ted’s temperamental oven is making a mockery of his talents.

All this, Alice has learned from Q’s texts, sent sporadically throughout this morning while Eliot sifted through his collections of recipes and mourned the lack of the industrial-grade ovens at the Rolling Scones kitchen. As much as Q loves his boyfriend, the secondhand stress has been sending him into a nervous spiral.

Alice has had to stop responding when she started her shift, but Margo took it a step further and FaceTime her. According to Margo, Eliot is a masterful cook who relies on intuition, so his bakes have a fifty-fifty chance of ending in disaster. Josh, who has arrived early for his five o’clock shift, is caught in the conversation.

“Fine, I’ll do a grocery run,” Margo relents. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Do they sell cake tins at WholeFoods?”

“They do,” Josh confirms.

One customer at the window catches Alice’s eye and waves. She walks over to see what he needs while Margo badgers Josh for baking advice. The customer, a Brakebills professor Alice had seen around campus, asks for a hazelnut latte to take home.

Alice returns to the bar to make the drink, catching glimpses of the clock. Fifteen minutes until her shift ends. Still no sign of Kady. Alice pumps hazelnut syrup into a cup, then starts the coffee machine.

“Chop the fruits into smaller pieces. And don’t overload the mixture!” She overhears Josh’s lecture while she waits for the cup to fill. “Or they’ll sink to the bottom and the cake won’t rise.”

She shakes her head, chuckling. As a boss, Josh is lenient, but as a baker, his micromanaging borders on nightmarish. Margo’s end of the conversation is inaudible, muffled by the grinding of the coffee beans.

By the time the latte is done, Josh is still rambling, and Margo has a blatant why-the-fuck-did-I-ask look on her face. “Oh, and, royal icing—make sure it’s pipe-able. If it’s too thick, don’t bother serving it. A bad dessert is worse than none.”

“Okay, snob,” Margo says.

“He can go for a rough drizzle over the top of the fruit cake if he’s really in a rush,” Josh ignores the comment. “But piping’s always better. Easier to control, you know?“

The professor comes over to the register to pay for his drink, then leaves.

“I’ll text you my full instructions when I’m home,” Josh promises at the end of his crash course. “Don’t share it. Don’t speak of it. We never had this conversation.”

“You’re closing tonight?” Margo asks.

“Yup. Ten o’clock.”

“That late?” She makes a face. “Eliot’s going to be up all night fussing over your shit. Can you send it tomorrow morning?”

“That works.”

“I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Josh waves goodbye to Margo before disappearing into the kitchen. There is a blueberry mousse in the fridge with his name on it, which he plans to devour before he takes over Alice’s shift.

“Hey, Alice?” Margo calls out.

Alice peers over from the register so Margo can see her from the FaceTime camera.

“Offer’s still open if you want to catch a train here. Ted says you’re invited.”

“I’ll pass,” Alice says. “Tell him I said thank you.”

“Alright. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Alice takes her phone off the stand and forces a smile as she says goodbye, ignoring the bitter taste in her mouth. As a child, despite her ambivalence toward most of her family, she’d appreciated the holiday season itself. Then, four years ago, Charlie died on his way home for Christmas and ruined all that. The last thing Alice needs is a reminder that to most people, Christmas a joyous occasion. Even Stephanie had given up on her incessant nagging for Alice to come home as of last Tuesday, for which she is glad. Family time feels incomplete with only three people.

But yesterday, Kady had shown up out of the blue and made things bearable, and Alice had selfishly embraced the cute customer as a distraction.

Margo’s words continue to haunt her as the hands on the clock inch closer to five. _Don’t have too much fun._

She won’t.

She shouldn’t.

But here she is, waiting for a beautiful woman to show up and put a pause to her grief.

The door opens, and the woman in question stumbles in, yawning with unresolved sleep. Kady traipses to the bar, her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath. “Hi.”

“You made it.” Alice tucks her hair behind her ear. The reasonable half of her brain reminds her they’d built their relationship on nothing but fleeting bits of friendly conversations. The other half ignores it. “Coffee?”

It takes Kady a few seconds before she blurts out, “Fuck, yes.”

“What kind?”

“Surprise me again.” Kady hands over her card, then gestures to the glass display. “And I’ll take two snickerdoodles.”

“No allergies, right?”

“Nope. Anything goes,” she assures her.

Alice charges her for a medium mocha and two snickerdoodles, and schemes for ways to blow her mind with flavors and toppings without relying on sugar. Kady finds a booth beside the bar and slides in, slumping back into the cushioned seat with a blissful sigh. She tilts her head in Alice’s direction to watch her work.

“Close your eyes,” Alice says, her hand hovering above an array of unsweetened syrups.

“But—“

“No cheating.”

“I’m _not_.” Kady insists, but closes her eyes regardless.

Alice reads the labels on the syrup bottles in search of the perfect plot twist and settles on the extra dark chocolate syrup. Then she adds chili powder, cinnamon, and a drop of vanilla extract. She pumps some into the mug and fills it with coffee and milk before stirring it all up.

“Try marshmallows,” Josh whispers over her shoulder, appearing out of nowhere.

Josh points at the toppings station in the back, then glances at Kady’s booth with a knowing look in his eye.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Alice pleads. “Margo will never let me live it down.”

He makes a zipping motion over his lips. Alice dares herself to use marshmallows like he suggests, gleeful about Kady’s reaction to something sweet and fluffy bobbing in her mug. Marshmallows seem very un-Kady-like, but the mocha itself is dark chocolate-based with a kick. Kady will forgive her. She hopes.

At five o’clock, Alice places the spicy mocha and snickerdoodle cookies on a tray and clocks out, letting Josh takes over the bar for the evening. Kady’s eyes are still closed when she sets down the tray at her table. “Open your eyes.”

Kady stares at the white, fluffy monsters bobbing on the surface of her coffee with disbelief. After a moment of silent judgment, she laughs. “The fuck?”

“Scared to try it?”

“You wish.”

Kady scoots over down the booth and pats the space next to her. Alice slides in, leaving plenty of space between them.

“Bottoms up.” Kady picks up the mug and takes a careful sip, bracing herself for an overload of sugar. Her eyes widen when the spices hit. A moment later, she sets the mug down. “That’s not terrible.”

Alice takes off her apron and folds it into a square. “Sounds like a compliment.”

“What’s in this? Dark chocolate? And chili powder?”

“Yes. What else?”

“Cinnamon?”

She nods. “And?”

“I don’t know, hazelnut?”

“Vanilla. Just a tiny bit to mellow out the chili.”

“Damn it.” Kady takes another sip, admitting defeat. “I’d never have guessed.”

They sit in silence for a bit while Kady dunks a snickerdoodle in the coffee and shoves the whole thing into her mouth. Alice fidgets with the seam of the folded apron on her lap as she looks at Kady up close. She looks less grumpy today, bundled up in flannel pajama pants and a puffer jacket, the frizzy ringlets of her hair sticking up in defiance of her better mood. Perhaps it’s the marshmallow’s fault for dulling her sharp edges. Or perhaps this is how Kady is like with someone who is not a stranger.

Like a friend. Or a—

_Stop it, Alice._

Kady catches her watching. “Hey. You okay?”

“I…” Alice fumbles for a lame excuse, “had to wake up early.”

“Around noon?”

“Try eight.”

“Sounds like hell.”

“Is that why you work evenings?”

“Yup. Always busy, but the tips are great.” Kady slides the plate with the remaining cookie her way. “You want?”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t be a stranger.”

After hesitating for a moment, Alice takes the snickerdoodle and breaks off a piece to eat. It’s still warm—she’d heated it in the oven before bringing it over. She remembers the night she and Kady first met, when she had assumed everyone minus the students at the café would be asleep. “You work with Pete, right?”

“Same place, different jobs. He’s a bartender. I’m not old enough to touch the booze, so I’m a waitress.” Kady finishes her spicy mocha in one swig like she’s downing a shot. “Marina used to work there, too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“She jumped ship when the Rolling Scones opened. Said this place has a nicer name.”

Alice chuckles. “It sounds like you’ve known them for a while.”

“Yeah. Since high school.” Kady pauses and furrows her brows, likely considering how much to say. “Pete worked at the corner store on my street. And Marina… I have no ideawhat she did, but she was with him all the time, chatting him up and stealing packs of gum.”

She talks as if Pete and Marina had been more than acquaintances or work-friends. It’s intriguing to Alice that they’d been part of Kady’s past. Those two are the nosiest people in town; they swoop down on gossip like shameless, teasing vultures. And then there’s Kady, who, like Alice herself, hesitates before sharing the most basic pieces of her life. By all means, Kady and her roommates should be incompatible as friends.

Something Kady says yesterday dawns on her, how certain she’d been about not going home. Are Kady’s reasons similar to her own? She knows better than to ask.

There are a lot of things Alice doesn’t know about Kady. Maybe, days or weeks or months later, Alice will understand this unlikely friendship she has with the two.

“I heard they’re on a road trip,” Alice says.

“They’re going to Chicago,” Kady says, “unless they change their mind last minute, which wouldn’t surprise me.”

Alice frowns. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says. “Well, I’m from Illinois. My family lives just outside Chicago.”

“Shit. They could’ve brought you along.”

Kady interprets Alice’s grimace as horror. “Don’t worry.” She grins and inches closer to Alice, nudging her shoulder against hers. “I’d never subject you to that.”

“Good,” Alice says, then stops.

She munches down the rest of her cookie and avoids Kady’s eyes. The moment when their shoulders touch leaves her giddy and itching for more. It’s ridiculous that she’s crushing on someone she barely knows, especially now. Kady was a customer on a slow day who had come here to apologize then stayed a little longer. That should be all there is.

But there is a kindness underneath the permanent scowl Kady wears like armor, one she had shown to Alice yesterday when they were alone. How can they be strangers after that?

First, though, Alice has to work out what Kady is trying to tell her. To act on anything now would be foolish. She’d hate to ruin this coffee shop for Kady for good.

Alice remembers the last time she’d been touched like this, sitting at a dimly lit table in an apartment on Ember Street, accompanied by her attractive coworker and a bottle of shared rosé. Margo’s tight leather skirt and mock-neck tank that hinted at the cleavage cloaked underneath; the way she leaned forward and rested her hand on Alice’s knee; the deep crimson of her parted lips as she drew closer…

_Oh._

Margo might’ve been trying to flirt back then, just like Kady might be trying to flirt now.

The scientist in Alice demands that she test her hypothesis.

She looks back up. Kady’s grin has faded, leaving her lips parted and her eyes sultry and inviting. Here goes nothing. Alice brushes her fingers over the back of Kady’s hand. Her heart skips when Kady doesn’t pull away.

“So,” Kady asks, lowering her voice. “What are your holiday plans, since you’re not going home?”

“I don’t know,” Alice says, and means it. “You?”

“I rarely celebrate Christmas. My mom and I are Jewish, and my dad… doesn’t do shit around the holidays. But I’m singing at the open-mic here on Christmas Eve. You should come.”

Alice blinks, surprised. “I’m working that night, so I’ll be here.”

She had been reluctant to work during the open-mic, thinking the event would ruin her melancholy, but she’d volunteered anyway to help Josh. Now there’s a positive to being out of her dorm on Christmas Eve. She can’t say she hates having something to look forward to.

“Alright.” The grin is back on Kady’s face. “It’s a date.”


	4. Kady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kady performs a song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of Charlie’s death, mentions of Hannah’s estrangement, and implied/referenced drug use.

On Christmas Eve, Kady treks down Haven Way with a strengthened resolve, grinding her boots into the salt scattered over the sidewalk. She ignores the buzzing phone in her pocket. Text messages can wait. For once, she is early, and though most people would consider this rude, her date doesn’t mind. Judging by the texts they’d exchanged before Kady left her apartment, she might even be pleased.

Coming in early also means she’ll have a cute and much-needed distraction from the voicemail she had received this morning. After being two years clean, Hannah, her mother, is asking to reconnect. She must have gotten Kady’s number from her father somehow, but the last thing Kady wants is to call her back when she has no idea what she’ll say. Hopefully, singing at the open-mic will give her the answer she needs.

The temperature is close to freezing Kady’s tits off despite the puffer jacket that she bundles under, but nothing can get in her way, not even the heavy snowfall that has been tormenting the town all day. With her guitar case tucked underneath one arm, she pushes toward entrance of the Rolling Scones Café, resisting the wind.

Her destination is not a where, but a who. Through the window, Alice peers over the tops of coffee machines and beams at the sight of her date. Alice has been working since the early afternoon, and will continue to do so until Josh closes the bar in half an hour.

Fillory has its own Christmas Eve tradition. The townspeople prefer to celebrate in public alongside neighbors and visitors. So while most open-mics in this town take place back at the Hare on the Ass where Kady works, tonight Bacchus has teamed up with Josh to use the Rolling Scones as the venue. With all edibles tucked away in the kitchen freezer, the café can more or less pass as family-friendly.

A handful of people are already inside, saving seats for their friends and families. Bacchus greets Kady from a small table beside the front door when she enters. She shows him her ticket from her phone, and he checks her off a guest list before letting her in.

Kady skips the line in front of the bar and waits for Alice at the pickup counter. The mobile app for the Rolling Scones is still under development. Yesterday, Josh had invited Kady to be a beta-tester on Alice’s recommendation. Though Kady suspects his motives are of a matchmaking nature, she cannot resist the promise of faster coffee.

“Pre-order for one surprise coffee?” Alice appears a minute later and slides a paper cup her way.

“That’s me.”

“I’ll be off at six. Save us a good spot.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kady saunters away, hot beverage in hand.

Kady finds a booth near the window and sets down her guitar case. A skeleton crew of waitstaff from the Hare on the Ass are loading chafing dishes onto the long buffet table at the center of the room. Abigail, a Brakebills student who often works night shifts with Kady, is wheeling a bar cart around with complementary soft drinks. Kady accepts two glasses of lemonade when Abigail passes by—one for Alice when she’s free—and wishes her coworker happy holidays.

She checks her phone once Abigail has gone, remembering the buzz from the text she’d received on her way here. Penny’s message appears on the lock screen. _Break a leg._

_Just got in,_ Kady says. _Food now, singing later._

It’s not long before Penny texts back. _How are you feeling?_

It’s ironic that Kady’s ex is saving her from boredom while she waits for her date. She considers telling Penny about the voicemail, but no. Her predicament with Hannah deserves more than a text, and way more than three months’ worth of trust.

_Okay. Trying to win,_ she says.

_You got this_. She pictures Penny saying it with full confidence, shit-eating grin and all. _Questing Beasts performing again?_

The Questing Beasts is an indie band based two towns away. Every few weeks they’d drop by Fillory during an open-mic to give Kady a run for her money. At the moment, all four members are sitting at a round table near the buffet, watching a video of a bear raiding a bar on their MacBook. The lead singer, Yu-jin, catches Kady’s eye and winks.

She waves at Yu-jin, then texts back. _Yeah, they’re here._

_Knock them dead,_ he says.

Kady sighs and closes her eyes. Penny is sincere to an annoying degree, even though she had broken his heart a month ago. Their sex had been terrific, mind you, but she didn’t sign up for _feelings_. She had withdrawn from his growing affections toward her for weeks before ending their relationship altogether. For the sake of her emotional capacity, the breakup was a relief. But they’re still friends, and on a performance night like this, she misses his stupid face.

_Happy Christmas Eve or whatever, if you celebrate,_ she says. _Tell Frankie I said hi._

_Thanks. Frankie’s whining that you’re not here._

She pictures Penny’s foster brother in Florida, fuming in front of a glazed ham. She had declined Penny’s invitation to spend winter break with his family so she could be alone with her thoughts this holiday season. Considering she’s here on a date, her wish was not meant to be.

After sending Penny a gif of a moonwalking reindeer, Kady shoves her phone back into her pocket. Her bravado falters when she realizes Alice will be here when she performs. Is this stage fright? Kady had never given enough fucks to notice before. Usually the audience are all strangers who judge her once, then fuck off for the rest of their lives without ever seeing her again.

Kady takes a swig of her mystery drink, trying to calm her nerves. Alice had made another mocha, but not a spicy one like last time’s. Instead, it’s topped with whipped cream and oreo crumbs, and the coffee itself has a raspberry syrup mixed in, mimicking the taste of a black forest dessert. The mocha ends up making her jittery, but she chugs it all anyway, not wanting the top-notch flavor to go to waste.

Singing for Alice will be different. She actually gives a fuck about what she has to say.

To make shit worse, Kady is straying from her usual crowd-pleasers and sing something personal tonight. She tightens the strings of her guitar and plays a few notes to test the acoustics and looks away from the perfect families around her. She had chosen her song after getting Hannah’s voicemail this morning, and she won’t change her mind over something as dumb as nerves.

* * *

The room fills up with other guests while Kady is stuck in her minor crisis. Only two tables are still empty, and people are leaving their seats to line up in front of the buffet while Josh closes up the bar.

“Sorry about the wait.” A now apron-free Alice slumps into the seat across from Kady.

Kady hands her a glass of lemonade.

“You tired?”

“Shit.” Alice eyes the buffet line with a groan. “I should _not_ have sat down.”

“I’ll get food for both of us.”

Alice looks at Kady like she’s a knight in khaki-green armor. The Hare on the Ass has provided a wide range of dishes to accommodate the guests. After confirming Alice is down for everything, Kady walks to the end of the line and snaps a picture of the enviable array to spite Penny.

Before she gets her turn, Penny responds with a selfie of him flipping the bird.

A while later, she returns to her booth with two piled-up plates to find Alice dumping half a shaker bottle’s worth of sugar into her lemonade. Alice raises an eyebrow, but Kady shrugs and sets down their food with only an amused look. She’s in no place to judge, considering her own problem with caffeine.

Throughout dinner, they steal more food off of each other’s plates than their own, all the while feigning annoyance. And when they talk, they don’t bring up family and skirt around the topic of holidays. At the moment, they may be the only ones in Fillory with no desire for family fun time.

Kady can only describe this date as _unexpected_ , in a “thank fuck” kind of way.

Because dating Penny was different. Intercourse aside, he had _bonded_ with her. He’d opened up about his feelings quicker than she was ready to accept, given her more than she could return. His sincerity spiraled her into bouts of panic whenever they weren’t banging, and all she could do was go back to sex—to the one thing she knew about love, or whatever it was that she’d felt for him.

Finally, in November, their relationship had come to a stalemate. Rather than slowly tormenting each other as fuck buddies with one-sided heart-to-hearts, they had agreed to break up and be friends. Her hurt was nothing compared to her guilt of shoving Penny aside when shit got too intense. He had done everything right except for the timing of the kindness he’d shown her.

Kady hadn’t expected any relationship with Alice beyond a brief encounter, a transaction between a barista and a customer on a late night. But here she is, exacerbating her caffeine problem by coming back time and again. Being friends with Julia must have changed her mind about nerds. She grabs a handful of Alice’s tater tots in their ongoing war and decides this is a change she can get used to.

The food war ends in a draw once they’ve decimated everything they could eat. By the time Abigail takes away the empty plates, Kady has forgotten all about her performance. She startles when Bacchus walks over with pieces of paper folded up in a top hat.

“Kady!” Bacchus sticks the top hat under her nose, rustling the contents inside. “Pick a number.”

She picks up a slip of paper and opens it. Seven out of twenty-four performances. Not bad. Better to get the song over and done with before she can overthink it.

“Seven. Great!” Bacchus writes her number down on the list. “We start at eight. You know the rules.”

“I know the rules.”

The Questing Beasts sets up for their performance on the makeshift stage—the far side of the shop free of tables. Bacchus steps out to take a call before the open-mic begins. “Are you nervous?” Alice asks, scanning the crowd.

“Me?” Kady props her head on her elbow, her free hand winding and unwinding the ringlets of her hair. “Never.”

“What song are you going to sing?”

“ _Don’t You Forget About Me_ from the Breakfast Club.”

Alice frowns and looks sheepish when Kady catches on. “Something wrong?” Kady asks.

“It’s nothing,” Alice insists. At Kady’s pointed look, she admits, “my brother and I used to sing that. It brings up memories. That’s all.” She glances down at the table, wringing her hands. “But it’s fine.”

“If it’s too much for you, I can try something else.”

“No! No. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

Alice looks up and nods. “It’d be nice to remember.”

* * *

At eight o’clock, Josh turns off all the lights except the ones above the makeshift stage. Alice moves to Kady’s side of the booth and perches on the edge of the seat as the first performance starts.

The Questing Beasts plays the opening notes of their song. It’s a new hit, not one they’ve released on their YouTube channel. The door opens as Yu-jin starts singing. Bacchus, now finished with his call, tiptoes back in.

Alice shudders when the wind hits her and runs her hands over her knees. Kady unravels her Black Watch scarf, a plaid-patterned one with navy and green. “Take this,” she whispers, handing it to her.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll live.”

Alice drapes the warm flannel over her bare legs.

“Better?” Kady asks, slinging an arm over Alice’s shoulders.

The fact that Alice lets her huddle by her side is all the answer she needs.

They stay like this for five performances, exchanging the occasional glances or whispered words of appreciation for whoever’s on stage. The competition is tougher than usual, but Kady loves a challenge, especially when there’s someone she wants to impress. She can only hope the song doesn’t put a damper on Alice’s spirits.

“Good luck,” Alice whispers. She moves aside to let Kady out of their booth before number six, a stand-up comedian, walks up on stage.

Kady pats Alice’s shoulder and tiptoes to the front to wait her turn. After the stand-up comedy guy bows and exits, Bacchus introduces her to the audience. She waves good evening to everyone before sitting down under the spotlight. With the guitar secured in her lap, she leans forward to adjust her microphone and searches for Alice in the crowd.

Alice’s face is hidden somewhere in the back. Disappointed, Kady plays the opening notes and begins to sing, cursing the rest of the room for being so dim.

_Won’t you come see about me,_

_I’ll be alone, dancing you know it baby._

_Tell me your troubles and doubts,_

_Giving me everything inside and out._

The first time Kady heard these lyrics, she was lying on the upper bunk of the trailer she and Hannah used to share. Her mother would sing this as she tucked Kady in before going to work at the club downtown, leaving Kady with her grown-up friends who would take long smoke breaks outside. Hannah always came back by daybreak, until one morning, she woke up at a hospital from an overdose, and a cop showed up with a CPS lady to take Kady away. Kady spent her teenage years with a birth father she barely knew, and she missed Hannah at the same time she resented her.

_Or will you walk away?_

_Will you walk on by?_

_Come on, call my name_

_Will you call my name?_

In the present, as Kady’s voice reverberates around the room, she feels none of the longing she’d expected. She’s different now, in more ways than just her age. She’s not the same person who called this song “the goodbye song” and missed it when she was shipped off to Upstate New York to live with a stranger. At some point during her teenage years, _Don’t You Forget About Me_ had transformed from an anchor to a shackle.

With this revelation in mind, Kady strikes the last chord. The tightness in her chest is fading, leaving behind a freedom she hasn’t known since the day the police showed up at her trailer. She stands, says a quick thank-you, and walks off the stage to a round of applause.

She finds Alice is sniffling in the back of their booth when she returns. “Sorry.” Kady sits beside her and puts her guitar back in the case, keeping her voice low as the next performance begins. “Was that too much?”

“It wasn’t.” Alice dries her eyes with her sleeves. Then she pulls Kady into a hug. “Thank you.”

* * *

The Questing Beasts win this time, but Kady is the runner-up by a small margin. Her prize is a stuffed puppy with a heart-shaped tag on his collar. He’s sweet and huggable like nothing Kady owns. She accepts him with grace, already thinking about names, and settles him into a storage compartment of her guitar case.

After the other customers leave, Alice returns Kady’s scarf and brings her through the locker room around the back. They emerge onto a quieter street, forcing their way through the raging snow. Alice stops underneath a lamppost and turns her back to the wind. “Thank you again for the song.”

“I was worried I’d ruined your night.”

“You didn’t,” Alice assures her.

“Can I—”

Kady hesitates. It’s not her place to know. It’s presumptuous to expect an answer. But her curiosity gets the best of her. “Can I ask what happened?”

She braces herself for a _“no”,_ or an _“I don’t want to talk about it”,_ but Alice gives her a wistful smile and lets her know the truth. “My brother passed away.”

“Shit.” Kady winces. She shouldn’t have pried. She knew she shouldn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“That was four years ago. He came home for winter break and died on his way back. Car crash.”

“That must’ve been hard for you.”

“It was a long time ago,” Alice says quickly, her voice wavering.

_Time doesn’t always make it easier,_ Kady thinks, but this time she keeps her mouth shut. Penny had cared too much too soon, and Kady had panicked and fled from his sweet intentions. She won’t risk doing the same. She can’t lose Alice like this.

“Is that why you didn’t go home?” Kady asks instead.

“Yeah.”

Alice turns to walk away, then stops and looks back, a silent request for Kady to follow. Kady catches up to her, the contents of her guitar case rustling from her hurried steps.

“He was at Brakebills, too,” Alice tells her when they’re halfway down the street. “Maybe that’s why I came here.”

There are so many parallels between their pasts. Hannah had been a Brakebills student herself, taking on massive debt and working more than she could study, until the pressure of trying to afford this life crushed her three semesters in. And now Kady is here, funded by a scholarship that didn’t exist twenty years ago. She can’t help wondering if she’s here for her mother’s closure rather than her own unrelated ambitions.

It seems like Kady might not be the only one living someone else’s dreams.

“This is going to sound selfish,” Kady says, stopping at the intersection. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“I can’t say I regret it. Coming here.” Alice brushes a strand of hair from her face. “That song you did tonight? Charlie used to sing it to me when I was feeling bad. I haven’t been able to listen to it for years. You gave it a new meaning.”

“Was I that good?”

Alice shakes her head at the banter and grabs Kady’s free hand. They cross the street together. “What I’m _trying_ to say is, I’m happy to be here because I met you.”

Her bluntness takes Kady by surprise, but she doesn’t wait for a response before she picks up her pace and pulls Kady down the block. She must be freezing again, which is not surprising when her legs are bare underneath that dress and pink overcoat.

They rush through the next intersection before the light turns red. “Well,” Kady says once they reach the other side, putting on a smug face. “Good.”

“ _And_ because Josh told me the shop’s getting busier, and he told me he wants to hire a new regular in January.”

“He wants it to be you?”

“Sounds like it.”

“I’ll put in a good word about your mystery drinks,” Kady promises.

“But you hate waking up early.”

“It’s worth that.” Kady stops them halfway down the block and looks around. “Now, where the hell are we going?”

“I’m walking you home.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“I watched you leave the shop two evenings in a row.” Alice gestures forward. “That way, right? Tell me where to turn.”

Kady studies the street signs and laughs. They’re one intersection too far from Darkling Road where she was supposed to turn left. “We _just_ missed it.”

Alice sighs and mutters, “Unbelievable.”

She lets Kady guide her the rest of the way.

Kady brings her to her apartment building and leans against the wall by the front door, considering her next steps. A clock from the nearby church chimes ten times. No one is out on the streets anymore; all the townspeople have gone indoors save for some guests from the open-mic, who, by the sound of it, are still standing by the Rolling Scones in the distance, chatting away.

“I should head back to my dorm,” Alice says.

“Come closer,” Kady says. She lowers her guitar case onto the ground, then takes off her Black Watch scarf and wraps it around Alice’s neck. “Try not to freeze.”

“Are you sure?”

“I like it on you. The blue makes your eyes pop.”

Alice picks up the tail of the scarf and holds it by Kady’s face, likely concluding the green parts of the plaid bring out Kady’s eyes. Kady had bought this scarf from a flea market in Lower Manhattan when she was seventeen. Pete had called it her “lumberjack shawl”, and the more he made fun of it, the more she was determined to embrace it.

Now it’s a scarf suited to them both.

But enough about the past. Kady is in no mood to dive back into nostalgia tonight after releasing what longing she’d once had for her old life through that song. Tomorrow morning, though, after she raves to Josh about Alice’s mystery drinks, she’ll give Hannah a call back. Not to talk about the last time they saw each other; she’s not ready for a heart-to-heart with someone who hasn’t talked to her in years. But she might tell Hannah what she’s been up to. She might tell her about Fillory, about Brakebills…

Not about Alice. Not yet, anyway. Before that can happen, she has to tell Alice about Hannah.

Kady, the taller of the two, takes another step forward and cloaks Alice’s face in her shadow. When Alice tips her chin up in response, the warm breaths from her nose tickle Kady’s lips. It’s so tempting to laugh and pull away, but Kady will not be deterred. She loops her arms around Alice’s waist, leans down, and kisses her.

Alice stiffens at first, but relaxes and parts her mouth to deepen the kiss before Kady can think to panic. A snowflake falls onto Kady’s cheek, then melts into a tiny droplet. Kady ignores the cold prickle under her skin and carries on, emboldened by the quickening of her heart. They pull apart to catch their breaths too soon for their liking, wide-eyed with mirrored smiles on their faces.

“So, now what?” Alice asks, catching her breath, blushing as pink as her coat.

Kady looks up at the apartment building and peers through the leftmost window on the third floor. Her home, which she shares with the nosiest people in town, is deserted for once, and will remain so until New Year’s Eve. The place is begging for companionship. She might as well ask Alice to stay in with her and wait out the snow.

“You know.” Kady picks up her guitar case and opens the front door with a flourish. “We don’t have to spend the night alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://chaptersonetoinfinity.tumblr.com/).
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! I am hoping 2021 will be kinder to all of us.
> 
> Part 3 of this series will be Julia/Penny.


End file.
